


A Long Awaited Peace

by inquisitorsmabari



Series: Inquisitor Amelie Trevelyan [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post Game, Post-Canon, Spooning, because i love it, still sort of newly married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 17:37:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitorsmabari/pseuds/inquisitorsmabari
Summary: A short piece of fluff I wrote for Cullen Appreciation Week told from Cullen's POV. There's working until the late hours, finding out that his new wife is a serial duvet thief, and some spooning for good measure.





	A Long Awaited Peace

The Exalted Council. Nine months ago, he was sat here, reading the note in his dimly lit office, eyes straining against the waning light as he read the dreaded words.

_Prepare our men for the Exalted Council._

He couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand why they had to answer to these political bodies, the rulers of kingdoms they had saved from ruin. _You were never one for politics_ , she had told him with a laugh, but it was true. The subtleties of the game of kings and queens, and lords and ladies, he had never really grasped. But he was a military man, and he followed his orders.

He was glad he had, in retrospect. The Council was a mess, that much was true. The nations were angered, rather than quelled, and that was nothing compared to the Qunari and their gatlock. He’d almost lost the wife he’d only just married.

But he had married. That’s where it started, the beginning of their new life, and it was the Council that he could thank for that. Something about the palace had emboldened him to make that move, and Maker was he forever grateful that he had, and that she had said yes. 

Now, the Inquisition was a shadow of its former self. Many had moved on with their lives, returned to their homelands, or their family. But where would he have gone if the Inquisition was no more? It had become such a part of his life that, without it, what would he have done? Settled down with his new wife, he presumed, but he knew that the both of them were at their best when they had something to keep their minds alight, something to drive them, a goal to pursue, or a problem to solve. They had both found each other in the Inquisition, and his fear of the Council stemmed primarily from a fear that all of this would be taken away from him, from them.

But the Council had given them all another chance to serve for good, and he still had work to do in his drafty, secluded office. Work which kept him up long in to the night, until the candles began to burn down to the end of their wicks, until his eyes began to strain from the encroaching darkness, until he, sometimes, found himself drifting in to an unwelcome sleep. He couldn’t help himself, his mind was always, for some reason, a well of inspiration which he could draw from the most in the later hours. His days were better spent with his army, his evenings were for paperwork, or for spending alone in his new rooms he shared with his wife. 

Even now, he had lost himself in work he perhaps should’ve done earlier. Even now, it was the stars who greeted him as he blew out the candles and closed up his office for the day, their bright gaze judging him as he made his way back to his rooms, back to the woman he had abandoned for endless streams of supplies and orders and reports from all over. But, she couldn’t complain, she was exactly the same. How many times had he ascended the stairs in her rooms and found her asleep at her desk? How many times had she stubbornly refused to go to bed because she just wanted to finish that one, last thing she wanted to finish? How many times had they been about to enjoy some time together but then she remembered something she had forgotten to do? In fact, was she worse than him?

No, that couldn’t be possible, he deduced, as he entered their room and found her asleep in their bed, curled up in the covers so tight that he wondered if she could even breathe. What time was it? He had no idea, but it was late enough that she had entered a sleep so deep that nothing could wake her, not even his heavy footsteps as he crossed the floor, not even the movement of the bed when he slumped himself down on it. No, he was worse, definitely worse.

Although, he had been punished. She had hoarded the covers for herself as she fought to stave off the cold which had arrived at Skyhold at the onset of the new season, forcing him to either sleep without, as his poor hound had been forced to do, or to worm his way in to her blanket fortress without waking her. A quiet grunt of indignation permeated her sleep and fell upon his ears, and it took all the strength he could muster not to laugh and wake her up. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, soaking up the body heat which had emanated from her and warmed up the burrow she had made beneath the mass of blankets. It was soothing, calming. It was where he was meant to be, where he belonged at the end of a long day when the two of them had been worked to the bone. 

He was safe, he was happy. He held his wife in his arms, and their unborn child lay inside her, somewhere beneath where his hand rested as he drifted in to sleep.

He was at peace.


End file.
